


Spitting Image

by draculard



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Grief/Mourning, Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: After Lisa's death, Adrian will do anything to distract Vlad from his grief.





	Spitting Image

Lisa Tepes passed many things along to her son — her blonde hair, her porcelain skin, her clear eyes, and most importantly, her absolute refusal to take any shit from Vlad. It was this last quality which led Adrian back to Vlad’s castle after Lisa’s death, even as bile rose in his throat at the memory of what he’d seen.

He’d been there when his mother’s burnt corpse collapsed into a sheet of ashes. He couldn’t get that image out of his head. But whatever he was feeling, it wasn’t anger — he couldn’t summon up any rage at his mother’s death, only numbness, hollowness. It was like Vlad had stolen all the anger in the world, and Adrian couldn’t access any of it.

He had heard Vlad’s threats. He had to do something to stop it. But what could he do? There was nothing he could think of that could end this war without further bloodshed. 

Except…

Adrian bit his lip. It may work; he’d always noticed, even as a boy, how Vlad’s eyes followed him everywhere. His father had mistaken him for Lisa more times than he could count. He couldn’t fool Vlad, of course, couldn’t convince him that he  _ was _ Lisa no matter how unhinged Vlad became — but that wasn’t exactly his goal. 

Taking a deep breath, Adrian entered Vlad’s bedchamber. 

“This needs to stop,” he said. He could see Vlad seated in the high-backed chair by the flue, staring unseeingly at the remnants of a fire. Adrian’s stomach twisted at the sight of it — the charred wood, the ashes. 

He couldn’t have this conversation while staring at that. Quickly, he glided in front of Vlad, his back to the fireplace, and leaned down to grasp Vlad’s forearms. When Vlad looked up at him, it sent a shock through Adrian that he felt even through the numbed haze of his mother’s death. Vlad’s eyes were vague and cloudy, and utterly devoid of light.

All of Adrian’s vigor, all of his determination, seemed to fade away. 

“Here,” he said, his voice little more than a murmur. He pulled at Vlad by the arms until he stood and led him to the bed. Vlad allowed himself to be pushed down on the mattress, allowed Adrian to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt.

“You need to rest,” Adrian said, his throat aching. Vlad’s eyes slid closed; his head tipped back.

“Lisa?” he said. He raised a shaking hand and brushed the tips of his fingers against Adrian’s jawline, the touch so soft, so gentle, that Adrian didn’t know how to process it. He leaned into the touch, Vlad’s cold skin against his, and shuddered.

“You need to rest,” he said, but what he thought was,  _ You need a distraction, _ and he put his hands on Vlad’s waist and, leaning down, pressed his lips to his father’s.

He felt Vlad’s broad palms on the back of his neck, felt his fingers tangling in Adrian’s long hair, just like Lisa’s.

Felt Vlad kissing him back. Felt shame and horror warring against the numbness, felt grief crashing down upon him, felt tears stinging his eyes.

Felt desire stirring in him like a warm, blooming flower.

“Lisa,” Vlad breathed, mouthing his wife’s name against Adrian’s neck, his eyes still closed. “You came back. You came back.”


End file.
